Cult of Beauty
by Sapsorrow86
Summary: Deep inside the forest on the outskirts of a poor village there was a pool of water in which people could get glimpses of their soul mates. And though the magic of the waters brought countless joy to more than one villager it had only ever made Rumplestiltskin, the town coward, miserable. There was, after all, nothing worse than falling for a person who couldn't possibly be real.


Rumplestiltskin's village didn't look all that different from any other in the area. The bulk of the people were farmers or shepherds, and even the richest villager had little else above the most basic of comforts. An outsider wouldn't have been very impressed with the small hamlet tucked away on the edges of the kingdom, particularly taking into account that nearby there were more prosperous towns and cities, rich by way of trade.

But the village held a secret within, one so well-guarded no one outside the villagers knew of it. It was forbidden to talk about it with strangers, as all of the children were reminded over and over again by their parents and the elders. On the edge of town, deep inside the forest, there was a clearing. In the clearing there was a pool of crystalline water, fresh and sweet unlike anything else. The pool was fed by a stream, but it was impossible to trace the source of the water further, as the stream seemed to spring out of the top of a small hill as if by magic. The waters were so crystalline that the way they fell onto the pool seemed to create a mirror-like surface.

What made the pool special, other than its mysterious origins, was the power it held. Whenever people looked into the reflective surface they didn't see their own reflection but that of their soul mate, the one person in the world with the most potential for true love, the ideal companion. Whenever a child turned thirteen the elders of the village would determine whether to invite him or her to the pool to be gifted with a glimpse of potential bliss. It didn't by any means guarantee future happiness. Death, marriage to another person or a myriad of other circumstances could make it impossible to attain happiness with the one person designed to be their most perfect love. But, even if it was so, people liked the idea of having the knowledge of what their potential true love looked like, a secret tucked away to brighten their otherwise bleak lives.

It came as no surprise to Rumplestiltskin when he turned thirteen and it was decided he wasn't worthy of the magic. The sins of his father weighted heavily upon him but he tried to pretend he didn't care. He didn't need magic to make it in the world. Somehow he'd find respect, honour and happiness all by himself. Under the spinsters' watchful eye he practiced his craft, making the most beautiful thread anyone in his village had ever seen, soft but strong and dyed in brilliant colours. He made it a habit to sell it at a grand fair two towns over, where people did not shun him for his father's memory and paid him handsomely for his wares.

It took him years to buy himself a modest cottage, and even more to raise a bride-price that would allow him to choose a bride outside the village. During one of his trips to the market fair he met an enchanting girl, with soft brown hair and a carefree, easy laugh. Milah, as he soon learned she was called, was getting on in years and had three older sisters, which meant little to no dowry to her name. Rumplestiltskin found in her small but profound hardships something to bond over and, with the timidity of someone who life had told him never to dream for better things, he courted her.

By the time they married he was convinced he'd chosen the perfect woman for himself, and he'd done it without magical pools or the approval of his fellow villagers. Not even the death of his old, nurturing guardians could quite overshadow the happiness he felt during those first few years of marriage to Milah, who seemed ecstatic to be outside the confines of her paternal home and tending to her own house, living her life as she saw fit.

Over time his marriage and moderate success seemed to garner him acceptance and, little by little, the villagers began treating him with far less scorn than in the past. People began talking to him, interacting with him and buying his wares. It was as if he'd been forgiven for a crime he'd never committed in the first place, like he'd finally become worthy of their basic respect in spite of his father's crimes, which still hung around him like a bothersome cloak. One day the elders of the village called upon him to offer him the gift of the magic of the pool, long ago denied him, and though it felt like the most clear sign of their approval he respectfully turned them down. He didn't need the magic, he'd gotten his happy ending all by himself and it was liberating to scorn the gift he'd been considered unworthy of once upon a time.

He couldn't have predicted how fleeting his happiness would be. One day he was being brave like he'd never been, proving everyone who'd ever called him a coward wrong, and the next he was crippled, poor, despised and full to the brim with love for his perfect little boy, his lovely Bae. His relationship with Milah didn't so much deteriorate as crumbled right in front of his eyes, a little bit each day till there was nothing by accusations, bitterness and guilt.

But in spite of all that he didn't expect the way things would end, didn't foresee the elders telling Milah about the secret of the pool and his wife going there to catch a glimpse of a tall, dark stranger of roguish appearance, someone who looked adventurous and exciting and exactly what she wanted. She left while he tended the few sheep they owned, leaving their son alone till he'd come home from the fields, exhausted and starving to find he was no longer a husband. He scarcely gave himself a time to process it and grief. Bae was there, looking lost and confused, and he needed to take care of him. His boy was all he had left, the best part of himself and he'd look after him as best he could. He grew bitter towards the magic that had prompted Milah to abandon her own son in search of something else, something more, highlighting his own shortcomings. His hatred towards it became known, a funny story people told themselves to feel better about their lives. No matter who you were in the village, or how down in your luck you found yourself, you could always count on being a step above Hobblefoot.

It was around a year later that a group of villagers barged into Rumplestiltskin's shack in the middle of the night. They were drunk from celebrating the Harvest Festival, an event the spinner hadn't been welcomed in, and had thought up the best sort of sport for the night. They dragged the town coward through the mud and the grass of the forest to the clearing where the magical pool was, people laughing around him as they threw him on the ground and commanded him to look.

"We've got a bet going around, spinner, that cowards like you have no souls and so no soul mates. Let's see if we're right or not."

When Rumplestiltskin simply curled up in a ball, willing people to just go away, someone grabbed him roughly by the hair, yanking him towards the pool and forcing him to peer inside. Several other heads leaned close as well, some snickering when no reflection appeared at first. Then, just when the spinner thought he'd be released, there was a ripple in the water, a soft glow, and an image began to take shape. It was fuzzy at first, blurry, but it soon became clearer and clearer, taking the shape of a woman in a golden gown of the richest silk he'd ever seen. What caught his attention next where her eyes, deep blue and large, with thick lashes, and her mouth, turn upwards in a smile. She was... beautiful. Delicate as a rose, with creamy skin slightly flushed and the softest curves. Her hair was a rich brown, lush and curling around the gentle slope of her bared shoulders and her posture spoke of grace and poise. A noble woman, without a doubt, if such a creature could be human at all.

His, a voice inside him purred, his soul mate.

There was an uncomfortable stretch of silence as people studied the image in the water, so unlike any other that had ever appeared there. Confusion was thick in the air, the situation too bizarre and ridiculous to accept. Rumplestiltskin tried to will himself to look away, to step back from the pool and let the vision fade into the water, but he couldn't. There was something so... kind about her, and he'd been so long deprived of kindness...

"Even the magic thinks to taunt Spindleshanks."

Confusion gave way to drunken hilarity as people caught onto the joke. Beautiful noblewomen had nothing to do with poor, lame spinners. The woman clearly didn't exist, the magic playing a cruel joke on the town coward. In the following days news of what had happened that night spread through the village, and soon it became the town's favourite taunt, the local jest. People every day would hassle Rumplestiltskin, asking him if he'd met his "golden-gowned beauty" while out grazing the sheep or down in the mud with the pigs. They'd comment on what a catch he was, with his crippled leg and his dirty clothes, and tell him to please not forget about them when he went away to his beauty's castle to live a life of comfort and luxury.

Sometimes, usually when there was some kind of festivity and alcohol flowed freely, Rumplestiltskin would be chased down, no matter where he thought to hide himself, and dragged towards the pool, so people could see the image of the golden-gowned woman appear and mock him for it. At the beginning he wanted desperately to forget, forget the nonsense of the pool and the image of a person who didn't exist in the first place, there was something about seeing her, about thinking about her, that was soothing, even hypnotic. He found himself unwillingly fantasizing about her, about what she'd be like if she really existed. He imagined her soft, kind and curious to a fault. Coy too, the kind of person who'd kindly tease him, make him laugh. Tactile too, someone who'd give him the human contact he sorely lacked and was too shy to seek out of himself, someone who'd push him and make him comfortable at the same time. A curious creature, he imagined, so bold and confident in appearance that she'd hide her insecurities away, push them aside to pretend they weren't there. But he'd know and acknowledge them, help her overcome them. He'd see her like no one else did, the good and the bad, the pretty and the ugly and she'd love him for it.

Except she wasn't real and dreaming was nothing but a waste of energy.

But dreaming was all he had, dreaming and Bae, who grew strong and brave each day, so he clung to both like a drowning man might cling to an empty barrel floating in the water. He'd pretend to hide when the villagers came for him -after all, if he didn't make it into a sport they'd soon grow bored of it- and struggle once they found him and dragged him towards the pool. He'd keep his eyes cast down so they'd think he felt shame at their jeers when in reality his attention was consumed by the lady in the golden gown, whose face he knew better than his own. He'd stare at her and see past her appearance and into the core of her, the light she held within. He'd seek to cradle it inside his mind to feed on once he was back in his poor cottage, starving so Bae could have a proper meal.

Sometimes, if he was feeling bold and needy and his life seemed too much to bear alone, he'd sneak in the dead of night to the pool, past the look-outs he knew guarded it. He'd treasure those moments alone with his lady, free to be as adoring as he wished. Afterwards he'd berate himself for taking stupid risks when he had a son to think of and for feeding his unhealthy fantasies. She wasn't real. She wasn't alive. The pool was lying to him, playing the same trick life had: giving him foolish hope, the kind that always ended in despair and disappointment. This obsession of his, this private cult of beauty, would lead him nowhere, and do him harm in the process.

The only one in which he'd confide his secret, shameful dreams, was Bae. After some particularly trying day, when he was at the end of his rope and his boy was trying to console him in vain he'd tell her of the woman in the water, of how he imagined she was. Bae could listen to him talk for hours of his golden-gowned beauty, his soul mate, eyes wide and eager. He was convinced, of course, that the woman existed, making wild stories about how their paths might cross one day. Rumplestiltskin humoured him, seeing the happiness it brought to Bae to think of a bright future where their family was more than just the two of them in a tiny hovel, surviving.

Other fantasies he kept private, of course. Scenarios his mind came up with in the dark while he lay alone in his straw pallet and spun dreams of his beauty laid bare, the golden gown rumpled somewhere nearby as he worshipped her from head to toe with soft touches of his hands and lips. Those were the most cruel imaginings of all and waking up to find them gone was often times physically painful. But he prayer they'd never stop. He needed them.

He needed her, even if she was just some figment of his imagination, alive only inside his head.

The years passed with Rumplestiltskin as he town pariah and Baelfire as a strange in-betweener, not quite accepted but not completely rejected either. Every now and then the spinner would get dragged towards the pool, as it had become the tradition, to stare at the image reflected in the water, his public shame and secret treasure. It wasn't exactly a happy life, but it was a liveable one, with Rumplestiltskin clinging to what he could have, the reflection of a dream in the water and the reassuring reality of his son beside him. But Bae, at ten years old, became more and more convinced, as the days passed, that the woman in the golden gown was out there and would somehow, some day, drop into their lives.

He was, therefore, the only one completely unsurprised when it actually happened. Very few things of importance ever disturbed the routine of the village so when a carriage broke down in the woods everybody found out about it in less than half an hour. There was barely any time for people to theorize about the people inside the carriage before the strangers themselves came to town. There was a tall, bored-looking knight dressed in blues and browns, dark of hair and rather in a bad mood. With him were a handful of soldiers. He made enquiries through the town, finally locating the smith only to find out he had no real knowledge of how to fix anything more complex than the most basic wagon.

After some muttering about "backward hellholes" and the sorry state of some country roads the villagers heard the tall knight tell his soldiers there was no other way but to ride to the nearest important town to fetch a second carriage or some other means of travel. The way he emphasized that they look after the broken carriage let the villagers know there was something of great value within, not that any would be stupid enough to try and steel from someone who looked as imposing as the knight. The soldiers returned to guard the carriage and, though curiosity was ripe in the air, the townspeople had chores to do.

It wasn't until after sunset, when the shepherds, farmers and such returned to their homes, intent on some supper and rest after an honest day's work, that something happened. A figure emerged from the woods, cloaked in the richest brocade anyone in the village had ever seen and so easily marking them as a stranger. Unlike the soldiers the figure was female, obvious from the way the cloak flared over the skirts of a dress hidden from view. It didn't take long for the few children still outside doing chores or playing outside while their parents worried over dinner to notice the newcomer, cautiously but curiously getting close. It was a wee toddler the one to get the closest, showing no fear even as the cloaked figure crouched down, pulling their hood down. The small boy stared at the mass of curls in awe before grasping one between his dirty, chubby fingers and tugging slightly, laughing when the curl sprang back again. Once the other children realized the stranger was simply a smiling, pretty woman they flocked to her, attracted by the novelty of her. She looked unlike any woman they had seen, with pale skin, shiny hair and startling blue eyes whereas most of the people in the village were brown or honey-eyed.

The sound of the children's enthusiasm soon drew concerned parents and other puzzled adults outside. At first the kids crowding around the stranger made her hard to catch a glimpse off but soon enough people started recognizing her. People started whispering amongst each other, looks of shock and disbelief morphing slowly into angry stares. As if sensing all the eyes on her the newcomer rose to her feet, the movement unwittingly displaying a flash of the gold fabric of her dress. It was impossible to deny then, with her face so openly displayed, a face many of the villagers had seen countless of times before.

It was the Woman in the Golden Gown, the Spinner's mate. The woman that wasn't supposed to exist except that, apparently, she did.

The tentative smile in the woman's face died down quickly once she picked up on the open hostility of the villagers. It wasn't clear who made the first move, but the children scattered around, their parents sternly demanding they go home and stay put before someone grabbed the woman's cloak, yanking on it till she undid the clasp to free herself of it.

"What's the meaning of this?" Let go!"

With the golden dress in full display there was no denying what they were seeing. Shocked and more than a little angry, the villagers began to loudly talk amongst themselves, questioning the magic of the pool loudly, seeming not to care to be violating one of the core rules amongst themselves- never talk of the pool in front of outsiders- and loudly demanding explanations and for someone to fetch the elders. A moment later one of the men, Sven, a mindless shepherd, grabbed one of the woman's arms in a strong, vice-like, grip.

"Only one way to know for sure. There must be some error."

Several people agreed with him, the small mob all but sweeping the woman up and dragging her towards the clearing, few people shaking their head at the display and deciding to go home. No one noticed the small, floofy boy half-hidden behind a broken-down cart, watching everything avidly. Bae had been waiting for that moment for a long time. He'd always known it would come and when he'd heard of the foreign soldiers coming out of the woods he'd kept an eye on the town square, wondering if she would finally appear.

When he'd seen the hooded figure he'd been sure it was her, but he forced himself to wait for confirmation. When she pulled her hood back he saw she was prettier than his father had said, and knew instantly she'd make him happy. She looked like the sort of person to make others smile and feel special. His papa needed a lot of that.

He was about to approach her, thinking of what he'd say to her to convince her to meet his papa, when the shouting began and the woman was forcefully grabbed and dragged away by some of the adults. He thought about running after them, demand they let go of his future step-mama and let him take her to his father, but even at ten Bae knew he was too small to be of any help. He ran home instead, half-excited and half scared, relieved when he found his papa right away, tending to a pot by the fire. Out of breath and full of adrenaline it took more than a few tries to get any coherent words out, gesturing wildly in an effort to compensate. It wasn't until his father demanded he take a deep breath and count to ten before speaking that he could utter a full sentence.

"I saw her papa! She's really pretty, like you said, and she had this amazing dress that shone like the sun and her hair was soft and all curly, and her eyes very blue, but now she's in trouble and you've got to help her!"

It didn't surprise Bae when his father understood immediately who he was talking about. He suspected his papa thought quite a bit about her every day, though he tried to hide it. He wasn't surprised either when his initial response was swift and resolute denial. There was no woman in a golden gown, she was an invention of the pool's magic, and Rumplestiltskin refused to contemplate anything else. Though he was full of patience for his son Bae could tell his insistence on what he had seen was angering him and so he was glad when his papa finally registered the commotion outside.

"It's her, papa! They're taking her to the pool, I heard them. They were hurting her!"

It was undeniable that something was going on outside and, against his better judgement, Rumplestiltskin went out to investigate, senses alert in case someone out there was looking to mess a bit with the town coward. It wasn't until he reached the town square that he heard a small boy mention his Beauty to a group of curious kids wishing to understand what had all the adults scrambling about. The spinner approached the child as fast as his limp would allow him, hope burning in his chest against his will. The part of himself that had always secretly believed that the woman in the water was real, real and his somewhere out there, flared painfully to life against his will and every self-preservation instinct that screamed at him not to be foolish.

Even when the child confirmed Bae's story, telling him a crowd of people had dragged "a pretty lady in a yellow dress" towards the "special place strangers couldn't know about", he told himself there was sure to be another explanation. But even that couldn't keep him from dashing towards the woods, following an all-too-familiar path towards the pool. He could hear voices ahead, angry and jeering, so he tried to hasten his steps, suddenly anxious. When he arrived at the clearing what he saw at first were people gathering around the pool, struggling to see into it all at once. No one seemed to notice him and he struggled to try and see through the crow to whatever or whoever was in the middle. There was a full moon in the sky, making it easy to catch a glimpse of gold once the clouds parted. It was as familiar to him as the tanned shade of his own skin, having seen it enough times in the pool to commit it to memory.

With renewed vigour he forced his way past the crowd, into the inner circle. Though the dress was eye-catching- the voluminous skirts pooled around her like molten gold- he noticed the nape of her neck before. It was a new sight, since he'd never seen her back, and it fascinated. It seemed strangely intimate to be privy to such a part of her body, and his fingers twitched, eager to touch. She was staring into the water, utterly absorbed by whatever she was seeing in it, and everyone else seemed to be doing the same as well.

"What does it mean? Who is he? Why won't you answer me?"

He didn't expect her to have an accent, something soft and lilting, pleasant to the ear. He took a few steps back as she turned her head to look at the crowd, trying to hide. It was too much, the reality of her, the realization she existed, warm and soft and perfect, outside his imagination. She was even better than the person he'd created inside his mind. She was an individual, with her own free will, full of surprises for him to discover. And wholly, completely his, as he was hers. He knew this deep inside, past the insecurities that gnawed at him, reminding him of his lowborn status and even lower character, where his soul resided. He'd dreamed too much about her not to consider her a part of his life in some way.

When her eyes wondered back towards the pool, as if drawn in by some mysterious enchantment, he dared take a peek into the water, his eyes immediately recognizing his likeness staring back in all its dirty misery. Every line in his face and speck of dirt in his hair seemed to him to be highlighted, put on display for the lady's careful perusal. Whatever urge to try to answer her questions- he could see she was upset and it was a gut reflex to want to soothe her- died a quick death then and there. How could he be the bearer of such bad news, the one to tell her of the magic of the pool and the fact that it had chosen so poorly in her case? He didn't deserve her, he'd always known that, but thinking her imaginary had stopped him from considering a twin train of thought... She didn't deserve him.

He watched her watch him, paralyzed in the face of his staggering inadequacy, allowing himself to retreat along with the crowd. He didn't expect Bae, who he had forgotten was there in the first place, to march up with all the determination of an innocent youth and introduce himself.

"Hi, I'm Bae. It's very nice to meet you, my Lady."

He took the lady's hand, managing a charming, if also completely inadequate, bow. Far from looking displeased the woman in gold smiled, her confusion and apprehension receding a little.

"A pleasure to meet you too, Master Bae. I am Belle."

Rumplestiltskin had to keep himself from visibly reacting to her name. Belle. Beauty. Of course. He forced himself to pay attention, though, as Baelfire broke the cardinal rule instilled on him since he was in swaddling clothes and told a stranger from the outside about the secret of the pool and the magic it contained. He watched her avidly as she reacted to the story, hanging from his son's every word. He didn't notice people slowly slipping away, going home to sleep and hope that, come morning, the lady in the golden gown would be merely a dream.

After Baelfire finished his explanation the woman seemed to pause to think about it, no doubt trying to come to terms with everything and judge the validity of the child's story. There was no denying that there was magic afoot, and the way the villagers acted only served to further support the lad's story. And it was such an enticing story to believe,

"I see. Do you happen to know, then, who the man on the pool was? Do you know him?"

There wasn't derision or reluctance in her tone, at least none he could detect- and he'd gotten very good at picking up on people's tones over the years, as a survival mechanism- only open curiosity, mingled with the slightest bit of wariness. Bae, bless his heart, smiled widely, the only one completely at ease with the situation.

"He's my papa. His name is Rumplestiltskin and he's a spinner. Very good, my lady. He spins a yellow yarn so pretty it looks like gold."

Never had he heard his boy speak of him with such pride, as if he'd just told Belle his father was the bravest knight in all of the realms. Though Baelfire was the personification of goodness he wouldn't have begrudged the boy if he'd harboured little respect for his father, the town coward who could barely manage, some days, to put food on the table or a roof over their heads. He had, therefore, avoided ever hearing his boy talk of him, or putting him in a position that would force him to.

"I see. Quite a feat to spin gold. And where is your papa, that you're here alone?"

Bae grinned, raising his hand to point at his still-frozen father a few feet behind Belle. He watched her turn around, rising as she did so, and as much as he tried to get his feet to move and follow his most deeply-rooted impulse, the one that told him to run and hide, protect himself, there was nothing for him to do but stand there, hopeless. He leaned heavily on his staff, the only thing keeping him upright judging by how much he was shaking, and watched her as she straightened out and stared at him, hands fisting on the rich fabric of her dress. She was... well, the enchanted waters of the pool had hardly done her justice. In the flesh she... she glowed. There was such a quiet, arresting strength to her, softened by her kind, open expression. Insanely curious too, he could see it in the way her eyes all but glittered as she drank him in, as unimpressive as he was. Though part of him was panicking- the sensation of his heart plummeting to his stomach and his lungs constricting was almost comforting in its familiarity- another part felt inexplicably safe. Content. As if it knew Belle already and felt safe in her presence from all the fears he was plagued with every single second of the day.

"Hi, there. I'm Belle."

She smiled at him, a tentative but beautiful quirk of the lips, and somehow the gesture snapped him out of whatever daze he was in. He executed the best bow he could, wanting to show her proper respect in spite of the less-than-proper circumstances.

"Rumplestiltskin, my lady, at your service."

When he looked up from her bow she was close, too close, and he almost flinched when he took one of his hands in both of hers. She was warm, and soft, and up close she smelt of orange blossoms and something that made him dizzy.

"Your son has told me you're my soul mate. Are you? Is that the reason why when I look into those waters, I see you?"

He lowered his eyes once more, trying not to fidget in front of her. She still held his hand in both of hers, as if it was completely ordinary for a noblewoman to touch a peasant.

"It's... it's a bit more complicated than that."

She tilted her head to the side, her interest more than peaked. He had her undivided attention, he could see, and it was an... intoxicating feeling. Haltingly, in a voice he hoped sounded more confident than he felt, he told her of the magic of the pool, everything that had been imparted to him since he was a wee boy. He spoke about the secrecy surrounding the pool and its powers, trying to recall every single detail. Belle seemed fascinated by him and his words, and it made him giddy to see he could captivate her so, even for a little while. A moment later he chastised himself. Those were dangerous thoughts. She was merely passing by on her way to bigger and better things, to the life of privilege and grandeur that she had stepped from temporarily due to a broken carriage. He didn't know whether to consider himself lucky or not that such an event had happened. He had the suspicion life would be worse knowing that the woman in the golden gown was other there somewhere than simply assuming she didn't exist at all.

"You didn't tell her all, papa!"

The spinner jumped in his spot, shamefully realizing he'd forgotten his very small son was still out there with them, in the cold and not sleeping as he should. Bae seemed not to mind, grinning from ear to ear and looking a bit like the cat that ate the canary.

"If a person finds their destined mate they must spend a night beside the pool, getting to know each other. It's tradition. And in the end, if they like each other, they should kiss before parting. It is said that couples who do that are together forever."

As much as he loved his son, the light of his life, Rumplestiltskin wished the lad elsewhere at the moment. He felt himself begin to blush, shame making his neck hot and his palms sweaty. He tried to make an apology- a thousand apologies, really- for the forwardness of his son, but he tripped over his own tongue and managed little more than clumsy stutters.

"Well, it'd be a shame not to follow tradition. Besides, I still have many questions."

Though her tone was airy, cheerful even, he could sense behind it the hunger of her curiosity. He was stumped as to how to reply. On one hand a night with Belle was more than he'd ever dared dream. A night to get to know her so the memory of her would keep him company for the rest of his life. On the other hand being left alone with Belle for a long period of time terrified him.

She must have sensed his inner turmoil, because her smile diminished and she lost some of her spark.

"Unless, of course, you don't want to. I was presumptuous, I'm sorry-"

Her demure hesitation was surprising and unwelcomed. Her curiosity was charming, and refreshing, not something she should curtail. He told her so in as many words as he could muster, sighing in relief when she smiled once more. He liked her happy. He wanted to see her only happy, always.

It was only his finely-tuned parenting skills that made him remember Bae ought to be in bed but, when he turned to tell him so, the boy was nowhere to be found. He'd trotted back to their cottage at some point during the conversation and it scared him that he'd been so focused on Belle he hadn't noticed it. He was usually aware of his son's whereabouts at all times during the day, developing something akin to a sixth sense where Bae was concerned.

"Please, let us sit down. We can hardly converse like this."

The idea of sitting down in front of a noblewoman didn't sit well with the spinner, but Belle's tone was so friendly that he couldn't keep himself from joining her when she found a flat expanse of rock and unceremoniously plopped herself on it. At first it was as awkward as it was exciting, being near her, catching her scent from time to time whenever the breeze blew the right way. She seemed to sense his hesitation, his shyness, so she began talking about herself and her life as the only daughter of a Merchant Lord in a seaside town of some importance hours away from Rumple's more humble village. She talked of her love of books, and her papa, who is as shrewd in business as he's kind in person. As she spoke he dared caress, ever-so-lightly, the fabric of her dress, pooled around her. It was soft and slippery, the fabric obviously expensive but not very adequate for the chilly night air. Though she never complained he noticed the goosebumps on her skin and the way she'd sometimes shiver. Though he reasoned she must have had a cloak on at some point he didn't really relish the idea of getting up to look for it, afraid to lose the intimacy they'd created for themselves. Instead- and blessing whatever impulse had made him wash his cloak only the morning before- he took off his cloak and clumsily wrapped it around her shoulders, taking care to avoid eye-contact or to touch her directly. The luminous smile and the demure "Thank you" she gave him in return made his ears burn.

He hadn't planned on telling her anything about himself. All there was to know was, at best, uninteresting and, at worst, shameful. Gentle coaxing, however, led him to talk about the spinsters who'd raised him and taught him his craft with patience and diligence. He described him with the fondness of a man who knew that what little he had he owed to those two women, and the softness his tale inspired in Belle's eyes was more than enough reward.

He didn't expect her to ask why he had been raised by people outside his family but he couldn't help telling her when she looked at him with such kindness. He talked of his father and his cowardly, cheating ways. He told her how his behaviour had branded him for life, how he'd grown up in his shadow, stifled. He poured out his whole story to her like he hadn't ever before, of his struggles to make something of himself and his spectacular failure. Words seemed to rush out of his mouth before he could think better of it, but there was something incredibly cathartic about the whole experience, particularly when he recalled how his wife had left him for a man she'd never met yet she'd chosen over her husband and son. He confessed to bitterly resenting the magic of the pool for a long time after that, feeling it had robbed him of whatever small comfort in life he'd managed to gain. In reality, however, he knew the fault lay with Milah, who had voluntarily left him and Bae.

"She... she could've fought for Bae. I was... strangely relieved when she went away. She made me feel guilty and shameful every single moment we spent together, made me feel like apologizing all the time... It was not a good marriage, those last years. But Baelfire deserved to be fought for. He deserved to figure in Milah's plans in some way." He barely flinched when Belle once again took one of his hands in her, lending quiet support. "Being abandoned by a parent... it marks you. It changes you."

He was embarrassed to notice he was crying. He felt a surge of anger, not sure if directed at the memory of his father and his callousness, at Milah's dismissal of Baelfire's feelings or at his own weakness, that so exposed itself to Belle. A moment later, however, the anger drained out of him. Belle had moved closer, cupping his left cheek with her right hand. Her fingers toyed briefly with a few strands of his hair while she made nonsensical noises akin to a croon to soothe him.

"I'm sorry, Rumplestiltskin. For everything."

He didn't realize how much he needed to hear someone say that until she did. It was as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, as if he could suddenly breathe easier. After the spinsters had passed away, and even before that, he'd been alone with his fears and his struggles. He hadn't wanted to share them with Milah, wanting to appear strong in front of her at first and fearing her later on, and he had certainly never spoken of them to Bae, who was a boy and deserved a childhood as uncomplicated as he could possibly give him. The rest of the villagers had always been enemies, deriving fun and pleasure from his misery and pain. He'd never entertained the idea that sharing his hardships, what weighted heavy on his soul, could be of any help. He was amazed to discover that it was. And it was certainly much better to do so with a real person than with an idealized figment of his imagination.

"You're too kind to poor old man, My Lady."

She frowned, her nose scrunching up adorably.

"Hardly old!"

Her vehement response prompted a watery chuckle out of him. She laughed as well, seemingly please to have distracted him from sad thoughts. To pay him in kind for all his confidences she scooted even closer to him and, in a whisper of a voice, told him of her own wants and dreams. Of her struggles against the limitations of her sex, of an indulgent but equally-oblivious father who she felt would not support her if she told him of her wish for adventure.

"It's not just about daring swordfights, magic spells and far-off places. Though it all sounds frightfully interesting what I really want is... change. Change for the better. New experiences. Knowledge. I have so many questions and I wish to do so many things... I want to open the way for other women to decide their fate, to have more opportunities than the ones they do today. My papa... he's wonderful. But if I ever told him all this he'd pat me in the head, smile indulgently and say 'But, Bluebelle, you have all that here, right next to me'. And all the while he keeps pushing these knights and lords at me, hoping one will catch my fancy. But all I am to them is a prize to be won. I want more."

He couldn't help nodding at her. Of course Belle should have more. She was intelligent and passionate and kind, she should have someone by her side that respected her dreams and encouraged her ambition.

After sharing their innermost thoughts with one another the rest of the night seemed to fly by, a blurry of soft words spoken in a whisper and breathy, barely-contained laughter. It was with more than a bit of regret that Rumplestiltskin was forced to acknowledge the sun dawning, and the need to return his golden-gowned beauty to her carriage, lest some over-eager soldier come looking for her to find her alone with a peasant nobody. He returned her to the village as slowly as he dared, making a big fuss about stopping to retrieve her fallen cloak and drape it around her shoulders, and found himself desperately trying to cling to his last moments with her. Though it was early most of the villagers were up and about, shamelessly staring at them as they walked. Bae ran towards them, all breathless smiles and hope, and told them a couple of soldiers had been looking for Belle and he'd promised to deliver the message that, indeed, the carriage was fixed and they were waiting on her to continue with their journey.

"It's for the better. You father must be worried, in any case."

The spinner tried hard to hold onto his composure. He'd reached the conclusion that it was better to have known her and lost her than to have lived his life thinking she was a dream. Knowing she existed made him happy, even though wouldn't get to keep her.

"So... this is goodbye?"

There was something odd in her voice, a hollow quality to it. She seemed deflated too, perhaps at the idea that her impromptu adventure was nearing its end.

"Farewell, my lady. I wish you health and happiness."

Never had he meant that polite turn of phrase, common in that part of the land. When Belle turned around, walking towards her carriage and away from him he forced himself to look at her only for a moment. Next to him Bae daren't say anything, though he looked distraught.

"Come on, Bae, we have work to do."

He started shuffling back to his cottage, wondering if he'd get anything done today, when he heard Bae call out to him. The moment he turned around he was almost knocked to the floor as something soft and sweet-smelling collided with him. A second later he felt warm lips cover his own, the gesture reckless and tentative at the same time, and he froze. The hand not holding his walking staff fumbled for anything to hold on to, finding the delicious curve of Belle's waist beneath her flowing cloak. Her hands where loosely wrapped around his neck, bare skin against bare skin, and she tasted of the vanilla Bae's birthday cakes were made of whenever he could get enough money to buy one from the baker's wife. Unconsciously he tilted his head to the side, the new angle allowing him to kiss her deeper, and she sighed against his mouth, her innocence ever-so-apparent. Her fingers caressed the tense muscles of his neck, making goosebumps appear over his skin. It was... it was perfect.

The moment she drew back, unconsciously licking her lips and blushing slightly, Rumplestiltskin felt the urge to sink to his knees and bury his face in the folds of her dress, thanking her for the gift she'd bestowed upon him. A beauty of her, of the spirit and the mind as well as the body, deserved to be worshipped.

"I'll... I'll tell my papa about what's happened. I'll ask him to come back. He'll let me visit, I'm sure. You'd like me to visit, right?"

He nodded frantically, too numb for words.

"Good. So I'll visit and we'll spend time together. We'll get to know each other. My father... he was a sailor before he married my mother, did you know? Lowly as they come. It never mattered, not to my mother or anyone else. It wouldn't matter now."

She smiled, shy and hopeful, and he felt a pang of arousal like never before. Not just for her but for the possible future she laid bare before him.

"I... I'll wait for you. Bae and I will. Eagerly."

She bit her lip, smiled some more and rose on her tip-toes to give him another kiss, her lips parted so that when she sighed he breathed her in. A second later she was walking away once more, looking back every once in a while to look at him till he lost her in the forest. The sounds of several horses in the distance snapped him out of his stupor and he lifted a hand to his lips to corroborate they were, indeed, wet. It took Bae pushing him towards the cottage for him to move at all, distractedly tripping over anything and everything in his path. He hardly noticed the stunned, disbelieving stares of the others villagers, nor the smug look on his own son's face. His papa had kissed Belle before parting, meaning they'd be together forever. The way Bae saw it he'd just gotten a new mama.


End file.
